


Some days

by softgrungeprophet



Category: Spider-Man (Comicverse)
Genre: Established Relationship, Implied Sexual Content, Kissing, Like so much kissing, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,816
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23258806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softgrungeprophet/pseuds/softgrungeprophet
Summary: Peter comes home shaken, in need of Flash to ground him; to let him kiss and touch and feel he's alive.
Relationships: Peter Parker/Flash Thompson
Comments: 4
Kudos: 85





	Some days

The sharp sound of the window opening was about the only warning Flash got before strong arms wrapped around his waist, startling a brief gasp from him as Peter's mouth found his neck. He tilted his head for Peter, with a quiet laugh as his heart settled, steadying himself with one hand out against the countertop.

"You scared me, jerk." He leaned back into Peter's arms, bringing a hand up to Peter's partially masked cheek. "Big fight?"

Peter growled, teeth grazing Flash's jaw, and then little kisses soothing over it.

"You're weird." Flash turned to catch Peter's mouth with his, a quick little kiss. "Who'd you fight this time?"

For a minute, Peter didn't respond, just kissing at Flash's lips and face and jaw, up his cheekbone, back down his neck… Flash settled his hand on the back of Peter's mask, as Peter fastened his mouth onto Flash's collarbone. Benefits of a tank top. Peter lifted him onto the countertop and Flash bit back a grin.

Finally, Peter mumbled, "Bridge collapse." His fingers dug hot into Flash's waist. "I love you."

"Oh…" Flash gathered himself—reached for Peter's hands with a frown. Dirty gloves, the smell of gasoline. "Peter, I…"

Peter kissed him quiet, wrapping his fingers around his wrists. His voice was a soft whisper against Flash's lips. "I want to touch you."

Flash looked at him, forehead to forehead. There was a fine hairline crack in one of his lenses, but other than that it was just the impassive Spider-man mask as usual, tugged up over his nose to show the lower half of his face. A bit of blood from his nose had dried on his upper lip, but that was it. At least, of what Flash could see.

He cupped Peter's face in his hands, as gently as he knew how. A skill he'd cultivated over the years, learning to be soft. "Eat first. Drink something. We can take a bath together."

Stiffly, Peter nodded, thumb rubbing circles into Flash's pulse.

***

After wolfing down a protein shake from Flash's special stash, and a twinkie even though he was supposed to cut back on them, Peter seemed steadier. Still clingy, but less like he was going to vibrate out of his skin if he didn't touch Flash ceaselessly. Flash refused to let him turn on the radio or the TV, and slowly pushed him away from the kitchen.

Peter got the message and took a few steps backward before lifting Flash in one sudden motion—Flash gasped, arms and thighs tightening around Peter's shoulders and waist, prosthetic feet awkwardly bumping. Peter's mouth found his throat again, and he still hadn't taken a single piece of his suit off. His mask brushed against Flash's skin, and Flash shivered.

Spider-man…

A lot of baggage came with Spider-man, and with Peter Parker, but Flash didn't exactly travel light himself.

They worked it out as they went, most days.

Flash's therapist helped.

Peter kept mumbling how much he loved Flash into his neck as he carried him to the bathroom. Stopping once just to focus on kissing his throat. 

Flash felt caught in that awkward place between arousal and discomfort—worry gnawing at the back of his mind, but Peter's endless string of _I-love-you's_ filling him with butterflies and heat and—Peter set him on the edge of the bathroom sink with a little nip. A tiny little sting that brought Flash back to the moment at hand.

"Hey." Flash coaxed Peter's teeth away from his throat, dangerous and wild but… for Flash… tame. "Off with the mask."

Obediently, Peter peeled it off. He dropped it in the sink and leaned back in to kiss Flash, bracing his hands on the edge of the cabinet. Flash let Peter kiss him—not that he could have stopped him, really, but Peter would have stopped if he asked. He let his eyes drift shut, and enjoyed the heat of Peter's mouth on his. Ran his hands through Peter's sweaty hair, and distantly registered the sink turning on for just long enough to soak the mask.

He almost laughed.

Leave it to Peter to double-task while making out.

Flash pulled away slightly, sliding his lips across Peter's cheek. He let his forehead come to rest in the crook of Peter's neck, pressing a few small kisses there as Peter turned his cheek against the top of Flash's head. Flash found the edge of his shirt, and slipped his fingers under the hem to tug it up. They detached from each other long enough for Peter to pull the top of his suit off along with his gloves, and Flash winced sympathetically at the sight before him—

Lots of bruises, a big one on his ribs, and a black eye.

Wordlessly, Flash reached up to brush his thumb against the purple skin under Peter's eye, and Peter caught his wrist in long fingers.

"I'm fine." He flattened Flash's palm against his cheek, closing his eyes. Long, dark eyelashes. Mottled red and violet skin. "I'll be fine."

Flash leaned in again.

They spent a few seconds just kissing, slow and soft. Peter's fingers found Flash's hair, twining through it and tugging gently until Flash tilted his head back to give him access to his neck. Flash mirrored him, though Peter's hair wasn't nearly as long as Flash's. Mostly, he just brushed his fingers over the short fuzz on the back of his head.

"Okay…" Flash breathed out slowly, as Peter sucked at one spot on his throat, increasingly tender. "Okay, you smell like concrete dust, come on."

Peter raised his head to look at Flash—dark eyes intense. Captivating.

He turned his head, breaking the charged air between them, and stepped back to pull his pants down.

Flash took a moment just breathing, watching Peter shove his costume into a pile behind the door. Most of the bruises were around his ribs, though there were some lighter ones on his back, and some on his shins and forearms. Under those marks, his body was tightly muscled, all powerful grace as he leaned over the edge of the tub to run the water.

"You too." Peter found his place between Flash's legs again. Flash moved to take his own shirt off but Peter caught his hand. "No. Let me do it."

Who was Flash to deny that…?

Peter moved very slowly, sliding his calloused fingers up Flash's sides as he pulled Flash's tank top up. He paused with it hiked up around Flash's armpits, and just barely brushed his thumbs over Flash's nipples. Flash huffed.

"Are you undressing me, or not?"

Peter ducked his head and licked a stripe across the spot one of his thumbs had just been, and Flash bit back a tight breath.

He reached up and whapped Peter on the back of the head—gently, as if it would ever make a difference with Peter's durability—"We're supposed to be taking a _bath_ , Mr. Spider-man."

Peter finally laughed; a quiet, growling noise low in his throat that raised goosebumps all along Flash's skin. But he tugged Flash's shirt the rest of the way off.

Now, he moved with efficiency. Careful but quick as he pulled Flash's basketball shorts down over his prosthetic legs. He loosened the sockets and slipped Flash's legs free. The gel liners followed, and Flash's briefs too, and all were set aside with much more care than Peter's own belongings. And then his arms were around Flash again, tight and warm and strong, lifting him off of the sink's edge to climb into the bath.

Peter reached for the faucet and switched the water to the free-hanging showerhead, as Flash drew the curtains around them. 

It was easy, to settle into this little routine—Flash seated on the bath chair, Peter standing in front of him.

Really, Peter needed to be clean more than Flash did, but Flash tilted his head back under the spray anyway, closing his eyes and relaxing under the warm water. Peter's fingers pressed firmly against his scalp, stroking through his hair, and he sighed.

He leaned forward, as Peter washed his hair, and pressed his lips to Peter's blotchy, bruised ribs. Just light, delicate kisses. Peter's abs tensed, but he just kept running the water over Flash's scalp, until he was done. He gave Flash a brief rinse all over, a little bit of soap, some roaming hands.

Peter sank to his knees, giving Flash a long kiss on the way down, and handed over the shower head. He knelt in front of Flash, and Flash had to bow his neck to hold their kiss, Peter just a little bit lower than him now. Peter let him go, and Flash pressed one quick final kiss to Peter's forehead before getting started washing his hair.

It was meditative, running his fingers through Peter's wet hair, lathering it thoroughly until it came away clean. Peter kept pushing himself up to steal kisses, and then sinking back down when Flash scolded him.

Thirty, forty minutes… Longer than they needed.

***

"You wanna talk about it?"

Peter didn't answer right away. He stood there, beside the little waste bin in the corner, with this serious expression on his face. Thinking, like he did so often. Thoughts turning over and over behind dark brown eyes. Finally, he just shook his head, and murmured, "Not right now."

That was fine.

The question had shaken him out of his introspection at least—five minutes just to dispose of a used condom.

Peter rejoined Flash in bed, and Flash adjusted the pillows as they settled against each other. Peter's arms wrapped around him, and he nestled into Peter with the familiarity of long-standing love and friendship, the knowledge of his responsibilities… Peter kissed his face.

Quiet, "I love you." A few more delicate kisses. "I love you, and I'll never let anyone hurt you."

Partially out of habit. It was just something he did, now, in bed. Repeated reassurances, reminding Flash how things had changed and making sure he was okay, and all this tenderness. All these careful touches—Peter rubbed his back as he spoke, slow movements soothing Flash until he let his eyes drift shut.

"You're safe with me."

More kisses, light as air.

"I love you."

Flash caught one of his kisses, and with his eyes still closed, mumbled, "Promise?"

"I promise."

Words whispered against his skin.

The rest of that… The tension, the underlying sense of loss or failure or loathing… It would come along naturally. It always did, eventually. Sometimes with a little extra push, but nonetheless eventually. Flash held Peter just as Peter held him, and let his breathing slow as he filed away his thoughts with a little reminder to coax Peter out of his thoughts in the morning, when a little distance had formed.

For now, he just listened to his voice.

**Author's Note:**

> ...originally my notes/direction for this was "Fighting gets peter's blood pumping cause he's maybe a little bit of a sadomasochist, so big fights happen and he comes home horny as hell and fucks flash's brains out."
> 
> OBVIOUSLY it went in a much softer direction lmfao  
> technically i think i've already written a fic that fits that original idea anyway so eh 🤷♂️


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